A Question
by HowAboutThat
Summary: Tugger's having trouble with a question. Seriously, I have nothing else to describe this story. I don't know how... Take it however you want. ONE-SHOT!


HAT: ... I should probably stop writing absolutely everything that comes to mind, but... here it goes!

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the plot because if I did own cats Skimbleshanks would be everywhere.**_

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The Rum Tum Tugger bites his lip, tapping his foot. He can't believe he's doing this. He starts in the direction, but he stutters to a stop and them turns around and through this repetative process he begins pacing, a tedious habit he would much like to rid himself of. He could always get one of the younger kits to- no, he refuses to go to she-kits. He loves them to death, but he can't possibly ask them of this. He fluffs his mane to tray and sooth his ragged nerves, but they don't seem to work out too well.

_Just do it,_ the large Maine Coon thinks to himself. _You've asked plenty of queens to do plenty of things._

But he hasn't asked _this _queen to do _anything _for years. He hasn't asked her anything like this either. He glances up and sees pretty brown eyes that were always a welcome sight to see in younger days. He glances at another brown eyed queen and sees her talking to an emerald eyed tom-kit. Amber eyes flick this way and that and then he bites his lip, not understanding why he's so nervous about doing this. It's more than a little frustrating to him. He fluffs his mane and decides to go for it before he can back down and struts forward with a less than confident strut that he's known for, getting closer to the one that's cause him so much conflict.

Chocolate brown eyes lift to the amber eyes of the Maine Coon. "Hello, Tugger. What can I help you with?"

"Um... I wanted to ask you something..."

An amused smile. "And the question is?"

He clears his throat nervously. "Um... you know what, I just remembered something," he says before he scurries off.

_You idiot! You should've asked her!_ he thinks furiously to himself.

It doesn't matter anyway. He blew it. He goes to his beam under the chair and lies there in misery. He failed, and now it's over before it began! How can _the _Rum Tum Tugger be so nervous around one queen? It shouldn't even be physically possible, but yet... it was. He should have no problem doing something like this.

_Just try again,_ some part of hims says.

_It's too late, I blew it!_ Tugger thinks to the part.

His bottom lip becomes trapped between his teeth and he lets out a low groan. After sulking in his spot for a few minutes he closes his eyes and sees the queen that he blew it with. Her soft brown eyes, her lips quirking up in a hesitant, amused smile, her paws working delicately on other cats, her glistening orange pelt covered in tiger stripes and leopard spots. Yes, this tom, not just any tom, but the flirtatious heartbreaker, the Rum Tum Tugger, cannot seem to ask the Gumbie Cat, Jennyanydots, one thing, one simple- or rather not so simple- thing.

Suddenly a shadow covers him and he cracks open one amber eye and his heart thumps wildly at the sight of said Gumbie Cat in front of him. Her arms are crossed and one hind paw tapping the earth with impatience. This impatience, in her family, never results in anything good for the one that's keeping the cat waiting and he knows this very well.

"Y-Yes, Jenny?" Tugger asks, trying to give a winning smile.

"Don't give me that, what did you do?"

He frowns. "Why is it I always have to do something when I want to ask you something?" he demands.

"Because that's usually what happens," she points out.

"Well..." he blushes. Thinking back on it, he does do that a lot. "Not this time."

Her ears prick in interest. "What is it you wanted to ask me?"

The Maine Coon takes a deep breath, the nervousness bubbling inside of his belly. "I was- uh-um- wondering if- well- ah- if you want to- um- you'd like -er- ah- like to be -um- m-my partner i-in the- mm- ah- the-ah... mating dance?"

He's never stuttered so much in his life. Admittedly, when he was a kit and she an adolescent, he had a crush on her (and their deceased Gumbie Cat, but every tom had a crush on her), like his brother Munkustrap, who, though he hardly shows it, still has a crush on the Gumbie Cat and that's the main reason he pushed so hard to sing her song and seems so pleased whenever he helps her around her and sings with such adoration. Still, Tugger hasn't done a dance with her, only came barging in at the end of her song. This year will be different.

She stays silent for so long he assumes the answer is no and sighs, getting up and starting to walk away when something catches the belt he always wears and he turns to see Jenny has him caught by it, her fingers grazing the skin under his fur.

"Now hold on, just a minute. I never gave an answer," she reminds.

He blushes in embarrassment, the blush actually showing through his fur. "S-sorry," he mutters, scratching the back of his head.

Her lips gently brush against his cheek and she pulls away with a smile. "I'll be your partner for the mating dance."

Tugger grins and out of impulse kisses her cheek. "Thank you!" Then he blushes furiously and his amber eyes widen. "I'm sorry- um-"

"It's fine," she giggles, sauntering back to Jellylorum, Bombalurina, and Demeter.

Tugger chuckles, knowing that Skimbleshanks will have no partner and will end up being the 'third wheel' in the newest couple's mating dance, where as last year it was Admetus. Usually siblings dance with one another unless someone asks them, but if their sibling is taken and they're not, they become the third wheel in the mating dance unless they get asked. Tugger was only the third wheel once and then he became a queen magnet so he never has to go through that again. There are some years when everyone has a partner, but there are others when someone was a third wheel.

He gives a smile and fluffs his mane, victorious despite how much he blushed and how embarrassed he was. "Looks like I've got a date with the lovely Gumbie Cat," he says, strutting away from the scene.

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HAT: *sighs* I don't even know how this happened... but you have another theory as to why Skimble's in the mating dance with Play-Dough and Victoria.

Plato: Plato, not Play-Dough!

HAT: *grins* Yeah, but that's how kits learn to say it.

Plato: *sighs and shakes head* Review or don't, I don't care.

HAT: _I _care!

Plato: Mhm... see you later.

HAT: *pouts* Don't listen to that sourpuss. Review please!


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